Read Online Devil's Mountain by Bernadette Walsh - Free Book Online Page B

and practically threw the two of us out the door.
    Chapter 8
    Mary
    I looked out the kitchen window, and in the distance, the old pucan stood beneath the old hawthorn tree. I turned away and said to my Bobby, “Are you sure you won’t have more black pudding? There’s plenty left.”
    “No, Mam, I’m stuffed. Plus, we don’t want to miss our flight.”
    I landed another sausage onto his plate. “No, no of course not. Caroline will want something, though.”
    He looked at me and smiled. “I don’t think so. She was sick this morning.”
    “Sick? Already?” I had added some herbs to her tea and made the request from Slanaitheoir in accordance with the Agreement. But still, I wasn’t sure it would work. Or that I wanted it to work. “Call me when you’re sure. And remember, my love. Only one. You can’t request another. Only the one.”
    Bobby grabbed my hand and in a low voice said, “One is more than we ever hoped for.
    Thank you, Mam. For everything.”
    My hand burned as he touched me. I closed my eyes and saw a baby boy with pale blue eyes. I dropped Bobby’s hand and fell to my knees.
    “What is it, Mam? Are you all right?”
    My head spun and although the baby boy looked sweet, I felt a strange sense of dread.
    Bobby took my arm and lifted me up. “You’re all right, Mam. You’re fine.”
    I leaned into him and opened my eyes. Instead of my kitchen, I saw smoke. And there was paper. Reams of paper fluttering out an open window.
    “Mam?”
    Falling. I felt myself falling through the air.
    “Mam!” Bobby shouted.
    I looked at him and instead of the clean cut, relaxed son I had stuffed with sausages a few moments before, I saw a different Bobby. One with a gash across his cheek, suit jacket torn and dirty. Who had only minutes left to live.
    “No,” I wailed. “Not my son!”
    “Shush, Mam. It’s all right. I’ll get you your tablets,” Bobby said as he sat me in the chair.
    I felt the rush of wind push my hair up as I slid from the chair and onto the cold floor.
    “No,” I keened. “Not my Bobby.”
    I wouldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t bear seeing my Bobby, all battered and torn. I felt a woman’s fingers at my mouth, pushing in the tablets. The bitter chalky taste made me gag and I opened my eyes.
    “You,” I spat. “You’re the cause of all this. Dear God, what have I done?”
    Caroline’s pretty, pretty face was pale and full of concern. “Mrs. Connelly, Mary, what have I done?”
    I grabbed her sleeve and whispered, “It’s not too late. Get rid of it. Pretend it never happened. Save him. Save my son.”
    “Mary, you’re not making sense.”
    Bobby, now clean and wearing his favorite Dublin jersey, walked in the door followed by Seamus. They lifted me up. I fought against the pills and to stay awake.
    “Don’t go, Bobby. Don’t go to America. It will be the death of you.”
    His green eyes filled with tears. “Ah, Mam, you were doing so well.”
    “No, listen to me. You can’t go back there. Please.”
    “Shush now,” he said laying me carefully in my old bed. “It will all be all right.”
    Seamus took off my shoes. “Leave her to me, Bobby. You don’t want to miss your flight.”
    Bobby kissed me cheek. “Sleep now, Mammy.”
    My eyes were heavy but I fought to keep them open, knowing this was the last I was to see of my poor Bobby. Before I knew it, I was lost to the oblivion of sleep.
    Chapter 9
    Caroline
    “Aren’t you my big boy?” I cooed to Aidan as he swallowed a mouthful of strained carrots. He graced me with a toothless smile. “There’s my good boy.”
    I looked around my previously immaculate kitchen that had in the last ten months become cluttered, filled with bottles, toys. Finally filled with life.
    When we came home from Ireland Bobby urged me to go to the doctor. Convinced I had a stomach flu and not wanting to be disappointed again, I refused to take yet another pointless pregnancy test. But as days turned to weeks and my reliable period